


Building Bridges

by GingerBreton



Series: Rebellion AU taster one shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Tumblr Post, Comfort, F/M, Ferelden Civil War, Fluff, Light Angst, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Rebellion, The Blight (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBreton/pseuds/GingerBreton
Summary: This originally started out as a one shot tumblr fluff prompt for "You're cold.  Come here."It has been commandeered somewhat by a brand new rebellion au that won't leave me alone.  See the brief history below.Very swift history:When the Orlesian Empire invaded Ferelden in the Blessed Age, they were on the brink of victory following King Brandel Theirin going to ground.  Before they could assume control of the country, the Dryden family (who were in contention for the crown at the start of the Storm Age) led an uprising, successfully ousting the Orlesians.  A Dryden queen was crowned, while Theirin, along with his family, vanished.  They were not to be heard of again until Maric and his sons embarked upon a rebellion, rising in western Ferelden in 9:25 Dragon.





	Building Bridges

The fire crackled and sputtered as large flakes of snow drifting down from the laden clouds melted above the dancing flames. It was a bitter night, even for the Frostbacks, biting winds blasting up Gherlen’s pass. Despite the cold they kept the fire low, giving off just enough heat for them to prepare a meagre meal, but not enough to alert predators to their presence. 

Desperation had driven their flight north, while the Wardens had taken his brother East to the Circle tower. Bile rose in Alistair’s throat at the thought of what their rites might entail, but so long as it saved him, he didn’t care. His initial blame of his travelling companion had been volatile, and his reaction explosive. _If she hadn’t tried to escape their camp. If she hadn’t run straight into those things. Cailan might never have been injured, the taint might never have seeped into his blood._ His anger was such that it had taken him a long time to accept that it was she who had stood over his prone brother, parrying thrust after thrust from the monstrous visages before them. The sudden arrival of Grey Wardens into the fray had shocked them all, and the wonder on his brother’s face had near broken his heart, even lay bleeding on the floor, the sight of these heroes of legend had still taken his breath away. With a, impossibly fast flash of their leader’s blades and the violent crackle of lightning from the staff of the young elven mage at his side, the last of the creatures had fallen. 

That had been more than a week ago now. The atmosphere in camp was still tense, the newly founded alliance between the pair not yet fully equating to trust, just a temporarily mutual goal. It had been many miles of travel before he’d swallowed his pride and apologised for his reaction, which had left her near imperceptibly flinching at any sudden movements, as her own hubris fought a bloody battle with the fear hidden behind her eyes. Alistair had to admit he had been a wreck during the first few days of their trek. It would have been easy for their former prisoner to escape at any time, making her way to any number of Dryden supporters to relay information of their own force’s positions. But to his surprise she had stayed, not knowing whether their new-found purpose would label her a traitor to her own father. 

It was the oddest sensation, travelling with the next in line to the Dryden dynasty; their name once blackened, their family once hunted, and their redemption found in the ‘do or die’ attitude of a family who had scrabbled for survival for a hundred years. She hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. They had heard tell that she was beautiful and enchanting young lady, though that was nobility’s fashion when it came to describing women, all aesthetic and no substance. She had surprised him. Her demeanour didn’t scream of the frilly privilege he had once associated with Ferelden’s peerage. She was all fire, determination and direct words. Never once had she flinched under his father’s gaze, head held high, bold contempt written on her features as she had regarded him in return. 

As they had climbed through the foothills and eventually up into the Frostbacks themselves, she had seen their way safely past bandits and beasts. The thought of a noble, let alone a royal having such abilities had stunned him. Stealth was not his forte, but she had not chastised him, whether this was out of pity for his brother’s fate, or born out of fear of the anger that had once gripped him, he did not know. Her only reaction to his far from silent progress being the occasional huff of irritation, and the only concession she asked on his part was the shedding of the heavier layers of armour in favour of travelling light. By this time their travelling necessities had been whittled down to one small tent and a couple of thin furs. Light and easy to carry, and as _her highness_ insisted one of them must be on watch at all times, there was little need for anything more. 

Alistair poked idly at the fire, his mind swimming as he attempted to process everything that had happened over the last few days. Burying his head in his hands, he let out a heavy sigh. He had been raised surrounded by resentment for the family of the woman who stood with her back to him at the edge of the firelight; a family he’d been taught had brought about the downfall of his own. But Alistair had never truly shared his kin’s desire for the throne, the idea of leading set his teeth on edge. Leadership had always been the role intended for Cailan, but that was before. Once word reached his father, who knew how that would change. 

They had made camp about an hour before sundown, keen to find a safe spot with good vantage points. They’d settled on a site some fifty feet off the main pass, their fire built behind a boulder to further minimise its chances of being seen. The view off to the south was impressive, the mountain slipping away steeply below them, enormous pines still managing to cling to its surface, their snow-covered forms arch high into the thickly clouded sky. The biting wind felt as though it was blowing shards of ice up the slope towards them, and as Alistair wrapped his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, she just stood staring out into the darkness, the wind whipping at her hair. 

“Do you think they’ve reached the tower yet?” 

The words tumbled out, not fully intended for himself alone, but neither were they intended for her. After all, why would she care for the wellbeing of her former captors. They had spoken a little as they’d travelled. Well, he had spoken, probably more than he should have done, but he couldn’t stand silences. The eerie quiet of their first few days travel, as they struggled to soak in the magnitude of what was happening, still haunted him. Each time he had spoken, usually babbling about something inconsequential, she had listened patiently. Once he could have sworn he’d even raised a smile. Maybe one day he’d manage a laugh. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure. It’s a long trek around Lake Calenhad, though they may have secured passage by boat. I’m sure they know what they’re doing.” 

Her words were softer than he expected. He could feel her eyes scanning his face, searching for his reaction. The dim firelight made it hard to make her out at this distance, but there could have been a hint of concern in her expression. It was probably his imagination. 

“Darkspawn and the taint are their business, I suppose,” he shrugged, shivering as the wind sent more flakes hissing into the fire. 

“I _am_ sure they know what they’re doing, Alistair.” The sound of his name on her lips startled him. He had grown used to her referring to him by _Master Theirin_ or Ser. “They wouldn’t have taken him if they didn’t think there was a chance. They aren’t the sort for sentiment.”

She hugged her shoulders as another gust rustled the branches above them, dislodging further flurries of snow. Mortified, he realised just how cold she looked, her thin travel leathers suited for swift travel in the lowlands, but certainly not for mountain temperatures. He rose and made his way towards where she lingered at the edge of the firelight, pausing only to gather up one of the furs from the tent. 

“Your highness…” he began hesitantly, but she was lost in thought again, his words escaping her. He could see her shivering now. He swallowed hard, building up the nerve to say the words aloud, “…Ysabelle. You’re cold. Come here.” 

The whisper of her name and the weight of the furs as he wrapped them around her shoulders was enough to draw her back into the moment. He felt her shoulders tense under his touch, her eyes widening at his proximity as she turned quickly, not fully understanding what he was doing. Her lips parted and he expected to hear a protest, but she made no sound, instead just staring at him with a mix of anxiety and confusion. Striking bottle green eyes transfixed him, leaving him momentarily frozen. _Keep it together, Alistair! Please let her think it’s normal for me to be this close to anyone. Oh, Maker, please don’t let her realise I’m staring. Cailan would never let you hear the end of this._ He felt the heat rising on his neck, this definitely wasn’t how a royal was used to being handled, but on this occasion social etiquette would have to go out the window unless she wanted to freeze to death. 

Leaving his arm resting lightly around her shoulder, he tore his gaze away from hers and guided her towards to fire. He could feel the cold radiating off her as they sat as close as they dared to the fireside. Trying not to overthink the contact, he briskly rubbed her shoulders and down her arms in an attempt to bring some warmth to them. She was still shaking as she held her hands out towards the fire, her fingertips tinged blue. 

Without thinking he cupped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips, breathing gently onto her icy fingers. Hot breath and his own warm hands slowly thawing hers. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn she was holding her breath. Her heavy-lidded eyes locked on the sight of her hands curled within his own. 

Eventually, once the colour had returned to her hands, she slowly pulled away from his touch, but remained close by his side. Ysabelle gave a little stretch, her eyes unwilling to open fully. Between the cold and the long day’s travel she was obviously drained. 

“Let me take this watch,” he offered, seeing the spark of determination flare momentarily in her eyes before being extinguished by a small yawn. 

“But you need to get some sleep, Alistair. You were on watch first thing…” She stifled another yawn, and to his surprise, pressed closer to him, muttering, “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m not tired at all.” 

It wasn’t a lie. He might have been tired before but now his heart was racing, adrenalin flooding his system as though he were fighting, leaving him acutely aware of everything around him. The world had slowed, the drifting flakes of snow hanging in mid-air. He took in the way the firelight played on her skin, every tired flutter of her lashes, the slight movement of her lips heavy with words unspoken, the slight wrinkle of her nose as she tried to stifle yet another yawn. When he felt the blush starting to tickle his cheeks, he averted his gaze, and the world slid back into motion. 

“You get some rest and I’ll keep watch,” he insisted, ruffling his hair to distract himself from the unnatural heat washing across his face. 

“I might just stay by the fire a little longer…” Her words trailing off sleepily as her head came to rest on his shoulder, hair tickling his neck. Before he could think of a response, her breathing had changed, sleep welcoming her into its embrace, as she settled unconsciously into his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, i really hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> There is still a lot for me to work out with this au, so I apologise if things seemed a little disjointed. i didn't want to completely overwhelm the one shot with extensive history. I do hope to write plenty more on this world in the future though.


End file.
